Star Sky
by The Mad Old THAImer
Summary: Alternative timeline. Set during WWII. A young woman starts her experiences in the war strong and sure of what she wants. How will the world crumble around her with the passage of time? Characters and some of the plot are loose adaptations of PotO, but it is more of a smorgasbord of many different works as mentioned in the foreword. Expect random references.
1. Foreword

There are many elements within this story, including:

 _Two Steps From Hell_

 _Europa, Europa_

 _The Pianist_

 _The Nazi Hunters_

 _The Exception_

 _Le Silence de la Mer_

 _Krigerens Hjerte_

 _Valkyrie_

 _In Tranzit_

 _The Diary of Anne Frank_

 _Suite Francaise_

 _The Things We Did for Love_

 _Der Erlkonig_

 _Titanic_

 _Les Miserables_

 _The Phantom of the Opera_

* * *

A young woman starts her experiences in the war strong and sure of what she wants. How will the world crumble around her with the passage of time? Characters and some of the plot are loose adaptations of PotO (i.e. Kristina is Christine, Erich is Erik, etc.) and I was unsure on what exactly should I classify this as.

On a side note, how many references can you guys get in each chapter?

Enjoy!


	2. Ch 1: The End of the Beginning

**Chapter 1: The End of the Beginning**

"Gustav! Play it again!"

"Yea, Gustav. We could certainly use some spirits right now."

Gustav Guheldi smiled as he raised his violin once more. He seemed to be about fifty years of age, with his cold grey eyes and short mousse-colored hair speckled with grey. His face had sharp features but many wrinkles, and chin had stubbles of grey hair poking out like whiskers. "Of course. Gladly."

In the one lone booth of the bar sat three tired, worn-out men, wearing old versions of the Norwegian uniform. The rest of the bar was empty. The atmosphere within the bar had a dark, deep, and melancholy aura to it, which all but vanished the moment he began playing. Beside him was a young woman, about twenty years of age with long, luscious blond curls and sapphire-blue eyes; her delightful figure was marred by her look of exasperation that she gave him.

"Papa, must I sing again?" she moaned at her father. "We've been here well past the time we were allowed. We've done nothing but play the national anthem and folk songs over and over again. We should leave. They-" she motioned towards the soldiers with her shoulder, "need to go back out there and fight."

"Kristina, don't say that. These men have been fighting off the Nazis for nearly two months now. They could use the rest and relaxation right now."

Kristina solemnly nodded, not wanting to argue further with her father, and cleared her voice, ready to sing again.

"Ja, vi elsker dette landet, som det stiger frem…"

She stopped as the bartender left his position and marched straight to the booth.

"Alright, bar's closed!" the bartender slammed the last mug of beer before the group of soldiers. "I've kept this open far too long for you all. It is nearly midnight. Now pay up." The soldiers were not too happy and complained loudly against it. From the tones of their voices, they were clearly drunk. Pitifully. Gustav and Kristina watched in silence as the bartender argued with the soldiers to pay for the beer and leave. Inwardly, Kristina felt relieved at this turn of events.

With the last soldier finally out the door and having wiped the booth clean, the bartender turned to Gustav. "Thank you so much Gustav for sticking around," he started, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the rag he was carrying. "It has been a long time since I had any customers that stayed out this long. I am truly-"

Gustav held his hand out before him in protest. "It's fine. It's fine, Frank. It has always been my pleasure to play for more people." He avoided looking at Kristina, who was staring daggers at him. They had played almost non-stop for fifteen hours. "Oh, and haven't you been wiping the booth with that rag of yours?"

"Huh? What?" Frank jumped in shock and stopped wiping his forehead. "Many thanks, Gustav. I didn't even notice. Anyways, I'm running a late. My wife and children are expecting me, and the children never fall asleep if I'm not there to kiss them goodnight. Can I trust you to close the bar down after you finish packing up?" he pleaded.

"Of course," Gustav sighed wearily. "Glad to help."

Frank beamed. "Thank you so much Gustav! Here is the front key," he dug the brass key out of his pocket and handed it to Gustav, "and don't forget to return it to me when you report tomorrow morning!"

"I will, I will."

"Well, then, I must be off. Goodbye!" And with that, Herr Frank Larsen was out the door. Kristina waited until she could no longer hear his fast footsteps on the cobblestone pavement before bending down to count the coins in the jar next to where her father and her sat on stage.

"One, two, five… ten… forty krones," Kristina mumbled. "And then we have to give 30% of all our earnings to Herr Larsen." She turned to her father, who was busy polishing his violin with utmost care. "Papa, how will we make ends meet? Herr Larsen can barely afford to pay us, and these tips are not worth much at all. I cannot see why we still stay here in Alesund, when we could potentially do better in the cities. Maybe Stockholm, or Oslo?"

Gustav placed his violin back into its case, his grey eyes lost and deep in thought.

"I am afraid," he said softly, as he gently closed the lid to his violin and put on his trenchcoat. "I am afraid of moving anywhere from here, Kristina. As I told you before, I fear that _they_ will defeat Norway, and possibly even the whole world. And then we will be rendered homeless, or perhaps even worse. I think it is much better to have a home now, than to be without it regardless of what we choose to do."

"Why do you say that, papa?" she tugged on his sleeve earnestly. "We are good people. We are useful. What could they possibly do to us?"

Gustav shook his head and resumed fastening the buttons of his jacket. "I cannot say, Kristina. Now come, let us head home." He picked up his violin case and beckoned Kristina to follow him out of the bar. After locking the bar with the little brass key, the duo walked out into the cold, clear night sky in relative silence. It would have been a waste of time and energy, after all, to talk while walking for such a long distance. In the faraway distance, the echo of bombs and machine gun fire could be heard resonating throughout the city.

"Well, that about does it," Gustav exhaled deeply as they finally neared their small cottage, putting his case down onto the cool ground as he fumbled with his own set of keys.

"Here, let me," Kristina offered. "Papa, you go get the mail." She held her hand out for the keys, which Gustav handed over gratefully. She effortlessly unlocked the door and opened it.

Their home was small, dingy, and musty, with the lingering odour of fish. There was just two rooms; one for them to sleep in, and one that served as not only the washroom but also as the kitchen and living room. The fireplace, long since rendered inactive, contained just a few pieces of wood. Not enough to keep the two warm.

Gustav set his coat on the rack next to the door and exhaled once more. His fingers ran over the one envelope that had been in the mailbox. "We… no, _you_ have mail."

"Is it news on Georg? Or perhaps Otto?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately not."

Kristina frowned, confused on the envelope still within her father's hands. "Then who is it from?"

"Who else could it be from? de la Croix, that is who!" He shook his head in disapproval, as if to get rid of the foul name he had just belted out. "Never mind him though. Come, Kristina. Let us hear what Norway has to say about the war." Kristina nodded mutely, retrieved some blankets from their room, and sat down on the mat next to the fireplace. Gustav went over to the tiny radio just above the fireplace and switched it on, and joined Kristina on the ground. Together, the two of them bundled each other up in the blankets and huddled before the empty fireplace.

"Bzzz… Bzzz…" the radio was not giving any type of response.

"Damn signal," Gustav growled, getting up again and retrieving the small contraption. He resettled back on the mat and whacked the radio a few times.

"Bzz… Bzz- We regret to inform-bzz-wegians that effective to-bzz- 10th of June, Norway has officially sur-bzz- to Naz-bzz-lease remain calm, and -bzz- -larmed by the soldiers who will soon be -bzz- sett-"

 _Click._ Gustav switched off the radio and let out a huge sigh.

"So that is it? All their work for nothing?" Kristina's voice was deadly calm. She looked at her father, who had closed his eyes. "Instead of fighting against them, those men we kept entertained were drinking in a bar. What if they made the difference between defeat and victory?"

"Stop it, Kristina."

"What if all our soldiers were like that? No wonder Norway has fallen-"

"ENOUGH, Kristina."

"WHAT ELSE IS THERE LEFT IN NORWAY THEN?" Kristina had risen now and towered over her father. His grey eyes shot open and met her gaze; he dared not to move. Kristina too was breathing heavily; she realized that she had stepped rather out of bounds, but was too in the moment to take it back.

Several moments passed while Kristina caught her breath and listened to her own voice of thought. _Maybe papa has a reason._

"So, why were those soldiers in the bar?" she asked, her volume finally under control. She sat down so as to no longer be above her father.

"They… they were my friends," Gustav lamented. "You have never met them before. We were young and reckless, looking for adventure. We threw ourselves as mercenaries into World War I. You may not have noticed, but many of them still bear the injuries of that time."

Now that Kristina thought about it further, several of them did seem like they were missing digits, maybe even limbs.

"As you can probably tell by now," he continued, "we were all shaken by our experiences by the war and wanted nothing more. Although," his wrinkled face broke into a smile for once, "I do not regret having met your mother in France." His face fell again. "They on the other hand want nothing more than to live out their days in peace. You do not understand how much they do not want to fight. You wouldn't know. But when you do, you'll realize it yourself."

"Oh," Kristina turned away, ashamed at her outburst. "But how are they going to live out their days in peace now?"

"That's beyond the point. Now," he handed the envelope to Kristina, "why don't you read what your _lover_ wrote to you." He spoke his name as if it were contagious. "Do tell me what he has written."

"Papa, why must you be so harsh on him? You've only met him once before."

Gustav frowned. "Yes, that one time several years back. Not the best impression, if I remember correctly. Poor fool tried to make a show of himself in front of you. He'll bring nothing but sorrow and pain for you. Trust me, I learned it the hard way."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Never mind," he sighed and shook his head. "Just read your letter already."

"Very well," she huffed. Kristina tore the pristine envelope open and removed the parchment-colored paper within. Several krones also fell out of the envelope.

"You must tell him to stop sending you these krones. I feel utterly humiliated by that."

"It is not my fault," Kristina argued, smoothing out the letter. "Here, let me read it…"

And so she read it, devoid of all emotion.

 _My dearest Kristina,_

 _Every day my heart yearns to see you once more. But I fear that it will soon not be easy. You may not know this, but France is currently still being attacked by the Nazis; it is only a matter of time before we fall. I do not know if this letter will reach you before Norway has fallen-I hear they are highly adamant on censoring mail._

 _I know that regardless, you will not be safe Norway, especially not with your father still around. How are Georg and Otto? Are they still alive and actively interested in all you do? Personally, I hope they aren't- don't tell them I said that, they most surely would have my head!- as they and your father will surely oppose to what I am about to propose to you._

 _I implore you to consider joining me in my cottage, where I will protect you to the best of my efforts. I have sent you some krones along with this letter for your reply; I will personally arrange for your safe passage to my home. Feel free to write back at any time._

 _Don't be afraid and keep strong. Remember, I love you with all my heart and will do what is best for you._

 _Best,_

 _-Raoul de la Croix_

"Well, goddamn."

* * *

Ooh… who are Otto and Georg? Where did Raoul come from? Find out next chapter.

Reviews and comments greatly appreciated.


	3. Ch 2: Memories

**Chapter 2: Memories**

"Well, goddamn."

Kristina looked up. Her father was staring at her. She suddenly realized that she was hunched over the piece of parchment and hastily straightened her back. His eyes were sad and almost accusatory.

"You read what he wrote to you. You are not safe here in Norway." He shot a dirty look at the letter. "You really are thinking about accepting his offer, are you not?" When Kristina remained silent, Gustav let out a huge snort. "This spoiled brat. I still do not understand how he knows so much about our family."

Kristina pouted. "Papa, we have been at this already! He is from a well-off family who have the means to do -things- like this!" She blushed slightly at the word "thing", but let the matter slide quickly. "But Papa… what did he mean by 'with your father still around'?" Her eyes shot up to her father, wanting answers.

Gustav sighed and held up his hand. "No. Not today Kristina. I am much too tired. Let us prepare for the next day. Go on. Take your bath. I'll go make us something to eat."

"Put Papa…"

"Please, Kristina. I need some time alone to think."

xxx

Gustav watched her figure slowly rise and fall beside him. Even in her sleep, Kristina was smiling almost playfully. _I wish I could be as carefree as she is_ , Gustav thought. _And as well-liked as those tysks. But if they were to know..._

He shook his head instinctively. _No! She is my only hope left._

 _I will protect her all I can._

Xxx

"Papa? Who are those people in that fancy wagon? Can we go talk to them?"

A young boy with mousse-brown hair asked as a state-of-the-art automobile cruised right by them on the empty road. Holding his hand was an older man, who was also holding the hand of another, brown-haired boy with glasses who otherwise looked physically identical to the boy. This second boy was holding the hands of a slightly younger girl.

"Not now, Otto. We should go to the market as fast as we can," the boy with glasses urged. He gave an earnest tug on the older man's arm. "Isn't that right, Papa?"

"They are just the rich," the older man replied nonchalantly.

The boy with glasses then shook the girl's arm. "And you, Kristina? Do you think we should bother with those people?"

She shook her head.

"See Otto? That's two on one!"

"No fair, Georg!" Otto protested. "Papa hasn't had his say yet!" He eyed enviously at the vehicle, which was just visible on the horizon. "I wish we had that! Our lives would be so much easier if we had that."

"Now, now, Otto. We must be grateful for what we have." Gustav stopped and leaned over Otto. "From what I hear, these rich families are not very close at all in terms of family. We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"I could do without Georg and Kristina," Otto snided.

"Hey!" Georg shot a scathing glance at his brother. "We're twins, and we stick together, no matter what! Especially now that Mama is dead. Oh-" He turned to Kristina, who was beginning to sniffle.

"See? You made Kristina cry!" Otto puffed his chest out in satisfaction. "All you do is tear our family apart Georg, admit it!"

"Aww, come here Kristina." Gustav got up and let go of Otto's hand, instead offering it to the little girl. "It's all right."

Kristina shook her head and refused his hand, instead turning to Georg. Gustav's hand dropped limply, his face crestfallen by this rejection.

Georg swiftly picked up Kristina and put her on his neck, shaking his head. "Seriously, Papa, you know she doesn't like you as much as Mama and I, isn't that right?" He turned his head slightly at the little girl, who, despite her tears, cracked a small smile. "Now let us make haste Papa, Otto, we must hurry to the market, or else they'll run out of good fish!"

"Oh come on!" Otto argued as the three resumed their walk. "Papa, you're going to let Georg talk to you like that? He's younger than you!"

"And you are the same," Gustav pointed out. "You too have the nerve to say such nasty words about your own brother. And you are just ten years old!" Gustav feigned surprise. "If I really wanted to, I would have severely beat you two up. But then, what is the point as long as you two learn your lessons on your own?" He stopped walking suddenly, his body tensing up slightly.

The two twins stopped as well and instinctively looked up at Gustav.

"What is it, Papa?" Georg asked.

"See for yourself," Gustav nudged upwards.

The vehicle was bellowing a huge stream of black smoke from the hood, and four people stood nearby, watching the smoke rise.

"Still want the fancy car, Otto?" Georg joked.

Otto shook his head.

"Let's help them." Gustav let go of both sons' hands and ran up to the car. The boys followed, Georg keeping up with Otto despite also carrying Kristina.

As they neared, it became obvious to Gustav that these people did not own the vehicle, based on the way that a family of three, apparently, stood off to the side while a young man frantically tried to douse the smoke with a fire extinguisher from the vehicle.

"Hello. Is there anything wrong?" Gustav asked the family.

The father, or so it seemed shook his head. His grip on his wife and young son tightened, eyes filled with mistrust.

"Reste en arrière!" he threatened. "Nous n'avons pas d'argent!"

 _French?_ "Oh? Tu parle français?" he responded in their native tongue.

The man's eyes widened as the twins, who had up to this point had been hidden from his view by Gustav, came into focus.

"Ahh- Ah! Good monsieur, I apologize for my behaviour," he quickly corrected himself. "I was just here with my wife and son to go sightseeing around Norway when our automobile suddenly stopped working." He shot a look at the vehicle.

Almost as if it knew, the vehicle suddenly subsided in releasing smoke.

"And now we are waiting for the next vehicle to pick us up. They run this type of service every hour if someone is out on a tour, you know."

"Ah. Well… that is… unfortunate. Surely just walking would not hurt though, would it? Alesund is not too far from here. That is where my children and I are going. And you, Monsieur…?"

"Ack!" The older man's eyes widened. "I am so sorry! De la Croix," he offered his hand. "Viscount de la Croix."

Gustav raised one eyebrow, not yet accepting the offer of a handshake. "Oh? I was under the assumption that the term Viscount was no longer being used in France?"

De la Croix shrugged. "Family tradition. What can I say?"

"And these two?"

"Ah, them?" he turned to face the woman and child, as if just realizing that they were there. His face remained steady though; the woman was as still as a statue, while the boy- maybe eight years at most- eyed cautiously at Georg, Otto, and Kristina. "My lovely wife and son, that is all. Now then," he returned to face Gustav. He couldn't help but notice that de la Croix had withdrawn his hand. "You said you knew the way to Alesund?"

"Yes," Gustav replied stiffly. "I can show you the way, and possibly to the lodge where the maps and long distance devices can be used at your disposal. Those are rather useless without money, of course."

"Ah, money." De la Croix fumbled around with his coat pocket. "That is of no concern to me. Shall we?"

xxx

Kristina bolted awake, her breath fast and unsteady. She looked at her father, who was snoring gently beside her. It had been three months, three months since she had last had that dream- no, recurring memory. Too long.

She got up and lit a candle beside her, shuffling slowly to her drawer and opened it. Stacks and stacks of Raoul's letters littered its contents. She realized a long time ago that she never truly got to know Raoul. That morning was the only time they spent time in contact with each other; his family parted ways the moment they reached Alesund.

Not even two years after, worldwide depression hit. Gustav struggled to make ends meet with what little he could earn as a violinist; Georg and Otto, at twelve years of age, did what they could do to survive, scavenging on scrap metal lying around on the streets. And Kristina? Only eight, she was singing alongside her father, appealing to the hearts of empty-pocketed men and women to earn money. Not like they had any money to go around either.

For an entire year, the Guheldis survived on almost nothing but stale bread and the occasional lone sardine.

Thus, it came as a complete surprise when the Guheldis suddenly got mail perhaps one month into the depression. Addressed to Kristina, no doubt. The letters were from Raoul.

Georg and Otto were understandably shocked at this, and Gustav was most displeased at de la Croix for even considering to contact them once again. However, it soon became clear that Raoul's letters were contained in precious envelopes of substantial value, which could be sold to earn the family extra revenue. Without the de la Croix's letters, the Guheldis would have surely starved to death.

Kristina sighed, placing her hand over one stack of letters wrapped with string. Raoul had written 128 letters, almost once a month, each one trying to contact her and begin conversation with her. She undid one string and pulled out the topmost letter. The date had long since vanished-lost in the sold envelopes- and the writing was smeared with time, but the message was still clear. It was also one of the first that he had written.

 _To Kristina;_

 _How are you? Do you still remember me, Raoul de la Croix? The little boy whose family was caught up in the automobile mishap? Even after all this time, I have not forgotten about you. I want to get to know you further, and I beg for you to reply to my letter._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Raoul_

Kristina placed the letter down again, shaking her head in disbelief. Eleven years, eleven years of time and effort had been placed on all these letters, for a girl who had received the letters, but never responded to them. Over time, the letters became, in her opinion, slightly more insulting, as Raoul suggested that she learn writing. Perhaps he had thought that Gustav would read these letters to her?

She suppressed a chuckle as she replaced the letter back into the drawer. No, her father would never do that, not when he protected her so dearly! Still, she had to admit that Raoul was steadfast in his love for her. Maybe it was due to her inexperience when it comes to love, but she couldn't help but daydream about this mysterious-man by now, surely- who still wrote to her even after all this time.

 _Maybe, just maybe,_ she thought, slowly returning back to bed, _once this war is over and Georg and Otto are back, I will reconsider._

 _And not until Norway is free again._

xxx

She was walking, walking fervently down a never-ending corridor, and she didn't know why. _What is going on? Where is Papa? Where are Georg and Otto?_

She stopped and looked down at herself, and noticed that she was wearing a tattered nurse's uniform, hastily patched in many places. On her right hand were two rings, one of silver, the other of gold.

 _Where did I get these from?_

She resumed walking with a renewed sense of urgency. _Where is everyone? Why am I wearing this? Where does this corridor lead to?_

She squinted her eyes and suddenly noticed that the corridor's left walls were lined with photographs. She slowed down to examined them.

Pictures of two distinct babies, one light blonde, one dark blonde with mismatched eyes, glared at her menacingly. Some of the photos had one of five distinguishable men-she wasn't sure of which nation- looking at her sadly; there while others had rows of rows of men, women, and children with the Star of David on their sleeves, clearly defeated and waiting for something. And even more, two mousse-haired men… Georg and Otto, badly beaten up and screaming in agony at her.

Each following photo was more gruesome than the last. The babies' skins turned deathly white, the men began gaining scars and losing features, the rows of people subsiding to a scant few people. She wanted to look away and focus straight ahead, but found that she couldn't.

And then, after long last, the distant end of the corridor approached her. Finally, she found that she could turn her face forward.

She wished she hadn't.

"Looking for someone?"

It was one of the men from the photos, his general physique identical to that of the photo. Headlocked in the man's arms was… her father!

"Papa!" she cried out.

"N-NO! Krist- run! RUN!" her father choked out, as the man constricted her father further and further.

Without even a slight hesitation, she turned her back on her father…

 _CRACK._

Xxx

Kristina bolted upright, panting heavily. The room was brightly lit- morning had come. But she could not sense the presence of her father; nor could she smell the fresh eggs that he always made for them every day. She turned on the bed, expecting to see Gustav.

And yet her father was not there.

"Papa!"


	4. Ch 3: All is Hell

**Chapter 3: All is Hell**

"Papa?"

She remained motionless on the mat, replaying the events of her dream over and over. How quickly she had abandoned her father in the dream, in the face of danger! Kristina shivered slightly at the notion. She, who had bad-mouthed her father and his acquaintances only several hours before for lacking a spine, could not even handle the threat of a single man!

 _I must become stronger._

With the newfound resolve, she found the strength to finally arise from the mat. The entire house was silent, with only her soft footsteps echoing throughout. She quickly noticed, however, that one of Raoul's letters was on the mantel atop of the fireplace. As she got closer, she noted that holding the letter in place was the brass key that her father was to return to Mr. Larsen today.

 _He must have moved the key up there,_ Kristina thought. _Perhaps he has written something for me?_

Kristina reached up to get the letter, as the mantle was a good foot taller than she. As she predicted, the back of Raoul's letter contained handwriting-most definitely her father's, she could recognize how he wrote his g's anywhere- and almost greedily read the contents.

There was not much content to begin with.

 _Kristina;_

 _I am off on an errand of utmost importance right now. I may not return for a couple of days. Can you return this key to Mr. Larsen? I do not care too much of what you do while I am gone, but I do hope you make the right choices._

 _I love you,_

 _Papa_

Kristina was instantly put off by her father's word choices.

 _I do not care too much of what you do? Papa, you don't really care what happens to me, do you not?_ She thought glumly. _It has always been about Georg and Otto._ She shook her head. _No! I must not think like that. Of course Papa is going to worry more about them when they are away at war! But what about me? Why am I not fighting with them?_

Of course, even Kristina knew why she could not. As a woman, it would not seem proper to be in actual service. And, quite frankly, her father needed her more than ever as an emotional rock more than ever, now with the twins gone.

With her conscious cleared, Kristina got dressed and headed to Mr. Larsen's bar. She met him at the front door, waiting for her expectedly.

"Herr Larsen! How have you been?" Kristina tried her hardest to keep up her facade of a smile as she handed the brass key over. "I hope I did not arrive too late. My Papa and I do not have a clock at home, and it has always been he who kept track of time." It was not that much of a lie; they did own a clock, albeit it had long since run dry on battery.

"It is no big deal," Larsen sighed, taking the key and unlocking the front door. "Just so you know, it is only 10:00, so you are hardly late. However, I do not mean to be rude, but where is your father today?"

She shrugged. "I do not know myself. He left me a note that simply told me to return that key to you. Do you have anything to eat, by any chance? I have not eaten anything this morning."

"I'll see what I can make," Larsen replied, opening the door. "However, I do not think we will have any customers today, seeing as the _tyskerne_ will most likely begin posting their men here in the upcoming days."

Kristina frowned. This did not sound good at all. "The tyskerne will be posted here? In Alesund? Why here? Why not Oslo? Or one of the bigger cities that are surely of much more use to them?" She inwardly noted that this was the exact same argument she posed to her father just the night before.

" Don't ask me." Larsen's voice had become slightly harsh. "Kristina, I must insist that we stop talking about this and just go along with our daily lives and hope for the best!"

xxx

It was just as Larsen predicted. There was not a single customer who came to the bar that week. Every day, Kristina would trek up to Larsen's bar and be expecting customers. Larsen would always welcome her with open arms, but the open door to the bar would otherwise remain untouched. People were going about their daily lives in Alesund; it was just that everyone avoided the bar. Each night, Kristina would return to her cottage, every time expecting her father or a letter from the Norwegian army about her brothers, and always being disappointed when neither failed to materialize.

On the eighth day, they finally had a customer; a tysk.

"Good day, Herr-" Kristina began, as the soldier burst into the room.

"Heil Hitler!" he more or less shouted, raising his arm in a salute.

"Uh… _God morgen_ ," Larsen hastily wiped the bar table before him clean. "How may I help you today? Would you care for som-"

"Nein, nein!" he barked. "Ich bin hier, um diese Broschüre zu veröffentlichen. Das ist alles!" Kristina looked at Larsen and shrugged; they had no idea what he said. He tacked a leaflet onto the bar's wall with a small nail, saluted once more, and left, slamming the door behind him.

"That wa rather rude," Larsen remarked, his face frowning in disgust. "And how he has nicked my wall too! The nerve of those tysks!"

However, Kristina was overcome with curiosity on what was tacked onto the wall. "What do you think the flyer is for?"

"I don't know. Take it down now, won't you?" Larsen replied. "And be sure to take that nail out too. I'm going to have to patch that hole…" He knelt down to the cupboards underneath the bar table as Kristina came up to the flyer and removed it.

"Huh…" she murmured. "It is an advertisement by the Tysks. Women of eligible race can sign up and be paid to be carriers for the _master race_." Heat began rushing to her ears. "They are currently establishing a maternity home at that old brothel house… The nerve of them!" she exclaimed. She crumbled the paper. "As if it weren't already enough that they have taken over Norway, and now they want to take away our dignity as well?"

Larsen popped his head from underneath the bar table, a rolled-up poster in hand. "Well, that is the ways of war, Kristina. Say, I cannot seem to find my repair kit anywhere. This will have to do. Can you tack this on the wall?" He held the poster out like a stick.

"I suppose," she replied grudgingly. No sooner had she pinned the poster to the wall, the front door opened once again.

It was another tysk. And this one brought company.

Five more, to be specific.

"Gib mir einen Tisch und eine Runde Getränke!" he barked.

Larsen looked at the tysk in confusion. Kristina, petrified, did the same. Neither one knew the German language; and it became even clearer, based on how the tysk's face contorted angrily and was turning more and more red, he didn't know theirs.

"Can we get a table and a round of drinks?" one of his companions spoke out in an attempt to be useful.

 _French!_ Kristina almost exhaled rapidly in relief. "Yes, yes, of course," she answered gratefully in French. "Here, let me prepare this table first." She hastily stuffed the flyer into the pocket of her apron and began to remove the table cover from one of the booths.

She could feel the six pairs of eyes staring daggers into her back and inwardly gulped. _This was not what I was expecting,_ she thought. _They are so intimidating, even outside of battle. How do Georg and Otto stand this?_

"Kris… Kristina," Larsen's low voice whimpered. "What… What do they want?"

"They just want drinks."

"Oh! Quick, ask them what they want!"

When Kristina finished dusting the table and chairs, she turned to the six men. " _It is ready, you can come sit now. What do you all want to drink?_ "

These men, in stark contrast to the flyer man's stance, were much more casual and laid back, almost sauntering their way into the booth.

" _The finest quality beer you have, thank you,_ " the French-speaking soldier replied as all six took their seats. He was looking at Kristina as a child would with the wings of an insect.

Kristina nodded and pranced over to Larsen's direction, shivering slightly. "They just want the best beer we have," she translated. She shivered again. "Please be quick. I want them to have their fill and leave as soon as possible."

"Of course," Larsen turned around and began pouring out the six glasses. With nothing better to do, Kristina watched the six men begin to talk about… something. It was clearly funny; even without drinks, all of them were smiling and laughing. It seemed as though one of them had cracked a joke. It completely countered her initial thoughts. _How merry they seem outside of battle! So vulnerable…_ She inwardly recoiled at her thoughts. _And yet I can do nothing against them even now. How useless._

The French-speaking soldier, however… although he had joined in on his comrades' fun, he was mostly keeping his eyes in her direction… at _her_. And that unnerved her.

"Here we are," Larsen grunted, placing the sixth and last glass on the tray and pushing them in Kristina's direction. "Go ahead and serve them. And perhaps sing for them a tune or so. Tell me if they want anything else."

When Kristina got to the table and gave them the drinks, she again noted how the French-speaker was again looking at her, making no effort to be subtle.

" _Would you like for me to sing?_ " she offered, trying very hard to talk to the other five men. They looked at her for a brief moment, then reached out for a drink and turned back to talking.

" _Thank you, mademoiselle. But I think we do not need you to exhaust your voice when my comrades have no desire,_ " he answered, winking slightly.

She could feel her cheeks turn hot and quickly backed out, bowing her head in the process.

 _How rude!_

xxx

They stayed at the bar until well past midnight. Each man seemed to want a refill every five minutes, and by the time they finally left, Kristina was utterly exhausted carrying glasses back and forth between Larsen and the booth. _How on earth could they consume so much alcohol and become only slightly drunk? Who?!_

Even more, Kristina could not shake the thought of the French-speaking soldier. Unlike his companions, he did not order any more glasses, but continued watching her every move. His light blue eyes continued to stare at her even when he had left.

"That was quite a long one, eh?" Larsen chuckled nervously while wiping the last glass. "Those tysks really do love a good drink." He turned to the barrels of beer behind him and tapped them, listening to the resonating notes worriedly. "I fear that they might run me out of business soon enough. Those men didn't pay enough to keep me ready for tomorrow. No matter," he shook his head, then turned once more to Kristina. "That one tysk though… he seems to have fallen for you, did he?"

Kristina felt her cheeks turn hot again and looked away embarrassedly. _I cannot believe it… already I am becoming smitten with him!_ She shook her head. "I… I don't know how I feel. Maybe a little uncomfortable?" She began to wrap her fingers around one of her two braids. "Larsen, I don't have much experience with men, or even love in general. However, the fact that he is a _tysk_ ," she spit the word out venomously, "makes it all the worse."

Larsen looked at her strangely. "And yet, you still blush at the thought of him. You know what? Go home. Here," he handed out some krones to her. "This is half of what they paid me with. I want you to go home and take some rest. Hopefully they don't come again tomorrow."

Kristina stared at his extended arm. "But Lars-"

"No, go home! Come again tomorrow."

xxx

They came back. And they brought company.

 _This is hell,_ she thought unconsciously, as she made round after round with the trays and orders. There were more soldiers who were barking out demands in French, and she struggled to keep up. And still, that same soldier kept his eyes on her all day.

By evening of the third day, Larsen ran out of beer.

" _I'm sorry, we are all out of beer_ ," Kristina gasped, unsure who she was talking to; her mind was a blur and still spinning, her body still unsure which direction she was facing and which particular person to focus her eyes on.

"Then bring out the wine!" a voice fired back in response. The other soldiers chimed in, roaring in laughter. She turned around and around, trying to focus on that one particular person who had given that order. More orders, some perhaps actual, some perhaps echoes, rang in her ears as she teetered her way over to Larsen's corner, unaware that he was making his way towards her.

"Hey, Kristina, are you alright?" Larsen's voice hazily reached her mind.

"I- I'm… not-"

Larsen could she her figure totter once more, before finally collapsing onto the floor.

"Kristina! KRISTINA!"

He walked with greater hace towards Kristina's figure, unaware that the group of tysks had also paused in their merry toasts and conversations and were now silently watching him. Larsen turned Kristina over; she was knocked out.

He was also unaware that one of the soldiers had gotten up and was also walking to where they were.

"As tu besoin d'aide?"

Larsen looked up. It was that French-speaking soldier again, and his glassy blue eyes reflected nothing but worry. Larsen shrugged; he still did not know the French language and cared less on what the soldier wanted from him. He tried to pick up Kristina.

"Ici, laissez-moi vous aider." The soldier knelt down and supported her other shoulder, and with effort, the two of them managed to lift her onto the chair of an adjacent booth.

"Garde-la tranquille!" he ordered, and the soldier took something out of his pocket. A small package, from what Larsen could see. He began to open it, and Larsen could see what seemed to be a powdery substance.

"NO! DON'T YOU DARE!" Larsen shielded Kristina with his body. The soldier's eyes widened as he instinctively jumped, spilling some of the substance onto the ground. "KEEP AWAY FROM HER!"

The soldier shook his head silently and recapped the substance. "Je suis désolé," he whispered.

Before Larsen could even react, he felt a stinging blow against his forehead. The soldier's image steadily came out of focus, overtaken by darkness.

* * *

I'm going to begin taking French classes this fall, so I hope to not have to depend on Google Translate soon. ;)


	5. Ch 4: Taken by a Stranger

**Chapter 4: Taken by a Stranger**

She found herself once again in that dreaded ever-lasting hallway from her dream. The distant light at the end drew her like a moth to a flame. Like before, she could see the portraits lined up against the wall, its subjects staring angrily, pleadingly at her.

With a bang, she recognized one of the five subjects.

That _tysk_.

She stopped in front of his portrait. He was grinning at her-no, he was winking at her!-, quite casually actually, in stark contrast to the other four. Kristina felt her cheeks burn slightly as she took in the tysk's physique.

He had wavy, somewhat messy chestnut hair, with several strands that stood up precariously despite the obvious efforts to make it side-swept. She blinked momentarily in an effort to wetten her eyes, and suddenly was standing before her.

"Mademoiselle, how do you do?" he asked kindly. His grin spoke many words.

"I…" she opened her mouth to speak, only to gasp in horror when his skin suddenly began to shrivel against his bones until he looked like a skeleton. _This is not what I wanted to see before me!_ She backed off, ready to sprint away at a moment's notice.

"Mademoiselle, please," the shriveled man pleaded. "Please, hear me out!" He raised his outstretched arm as if to grab hold of her.

The sight of the emaciated arm broke her. She ran in towards the light instinctively, desperate to get away from him.

"Mademoiselle! Please, come back! Don't go!"

His words struck her heart, but her brain remained resolved. Still she ran, past all the portraits without much processing-one man was missing almost half of his face; why she observed specifically that, she did not know- past the screaming children, past them all. And yet, the tysk's pleas were met with more voices, pleas and screams of anger, that followed her, the sounds ringing in her ears.

"Please!"

"PLEASE!"

"Please?"

xxx

It felt almost impossible to lift her eyelids, but that one voice- it was clearly the tysk's once again- was so calm, so unlike the others, as if a siren was calling out to its prey…

And she found that she couldn't resist this call.

She cracked open her eyes with much effort, wincing slightly at the sudden brightness that flooded her vision; the source of the light was a lightbulb hanging above her head. The tysk stood just centimetres away from her face, his hands quick to block out the light. His glassy blue eyes widened in great relief when they made eye contact.

"You're back!" he declared almost joyfully. "How are you feeling right now?"

With much effort, Kristina got up to sitting position, taking in her surroundings. She was lying on what seemed to be the only semblance of a bed in the room. The room itself was quite small, wooden but with the aura of homeliness. It was bare of decorations, save for a closet filled with several dress shirts and a closed window. Two small wooden chairs stood innocently next to the bed.

 _Where am I?_ Panic consumed her, rushing in like adrenaline. She opened her mouth to say her thoughts, but it appeared that the tysk read her facial expression.

"You had fainted," he replied. His smile faded, while his glassy eyes wandered towards the closed window. "This is where I stay."

"W-wh-why?" she croaked out. "Why here?"

He didn't respond, but instead looked at her as if she were an insect, observing her very closely.

 _He has basically kidnapped me!_ Adrenaline coursed through her veins as her eyes quickly darted around the room; the door was cleverly camouflaged in the wooden walls and hidden by the closet's hinge. The tysk's eyes widened when she found the door, but he did little else. She made an effort to get off of the bed, but found her legs to still be numb; adrenaline had not quite reached there yet.

"You question why you are here," he said slowly and quietly. "Well, you know my subordinates. And I assume you saw the flyers that were posted all around the town, right?" He tilted his head down at her knowingly. She nodded slightly. "My men are not of their minds right now, and some of them saw you as one of them. Naturally, what do you think is the first thing that is running in their intoxicated minds?"

Kristina raised her hand in protest but was immediately silenced by the positively passionate speech of the tysk.

"Of course you do! They wish to ravish you like a prey on display! How else can I nicely say? What else should I have done, mademoiselle? Of course I whisked you away from the bar, here to the relative safety of my little room! Oh," he noticed her fearful expressions. "No worries, I have not laid a finger anywhere where you do not want to, obviously! I am a gentleman after all. However, I cannot say the same to your bartender, for he is knocked out cold. I have not the faintest idea what my men have done to him, but I can only let my imagination run wild from there."

Kristina took his brief moment of pause to finally ask. "And how exactly did Monsieur Larsen end up knocked out, Capitaine…"

"Ah, yes, my name. Thomas Leudt, at your service!" he offered his hand eagerly at her. "I am just a Leutnant at the moment, but I certainly do hope to be promoted to Hauptmann in the future. Oh dear, I forgot you don't speak German!"

"It… it's alright," Kristina replied nervously while accepting Leudt's handshake, intimidated by how talkative Leudt was turning out to be. "I underst-"

"And what is your name, mademoiselle?" He winked. "A lady like you must have an exceptionally charming name!" He leaned closer, his nose just centimeters away from her own. "Isn't that right?"

 _Oh boy, a flirty type! Certainly the very opposite of a tysk, much less a gentleman!_ Kristina shoved him away briskly. "You can hardly be considered the perfect gentleman right now though, can you?" Her voice was laced with scorn. "I am just simply Mademoiselle Guheldi, thank you very much!"

"My apologies," Leudt quickly smoothened out his jacket, cheeks flustering red. "But you are such a breathtakingly beautiful person! Everything about you is just so wonderful and pleasant, quite unlike the girls back in Germany."

 _Ah yes,_ Kristina thought idly. _I smell like fish and beer, and you find that most appealing about me?_

Leudt paused, observing Kristina's annoyed expression. His eyes widened as it dawned to him why she reacted so negatively.

"Oh, forgive me! That is not what I meant, mademoiselle! I was merely trying to compliment your exquisite beauty. It was not of my intent to-"

Kristina raised her hand, palm facing towards Leudt. "That's enough. I think that I have heard enough from you. Why don't you show me the way back outside, thank you very much."

Leudt paled. "But, Mademoiselle, please don't-"

"I said, enough. Do as I ask."

She looked at him as though she had thrown daggers in his direction. Leudt shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

"Yes, about that. My quarters are deep in Alesu-"

"Just show me the door already, and I'll be on my way out."

Leudt stood up, shaking his head slowly. "It is right there," he pointed to just beyond the closet. _Knock, knock._ "Just open it."

Kristina rose. "Tha-"

"Mademoiselle, I suggest you-"

"No, stop!" she shoved hard against his rising figure, causing him to fall back onto his chair. "I hardly know you or of your intents with me! Just let me leave already." Her eyes narrowed, daring the young lieutenant to make a move, and pushed the closet door aside. "I don't want to think of you as anything other than as a helpful man, so good day." Still facing Leudt, she headed towards the door. Just as she blindly grasped the air for the knob, the door suddenly jerked open, and another soldier collided directly into her.

"Hey, Mas!"

Kristina stumbled backwards, her golden braids flying and arms flailing around uselessly, trying desperately to grab onto something. A strong pair of arms seized her from under her armpits; Kristina could feel her entire face soaked- the soldier had been carrying a pot of cooled coffee.

xxx

"Are you alright?" Leudt cradled her worriedly. He turned to the intruder. "Peter Shriver! How could you be so reckless? Barging into my room of all the actions you could have possibly chosen? You knew fully well that I had this Fraulein in here!"

"I tried to tell him," another voice drifted into the room. "He was just dying to get you the coffee."

"I'm sorry, Mas," Shriver mumbled, his cheeks glowing red. "I really wanted to give this to you though." He proffered the coffee pot, still a quarter full with coffee. "Ah, there is still some left! Surely you'll drink some of it!"

"Peter!" Another soldier stepped out from behind Shriver, a scowl on his face. "Clearly you should be apologizing to the Fraulein who lies before you completely drenched in your goddamn coffee! Seriously!" He slapped Shriver hard across the face. "You need to get your act together! Imagine if that coffee was still hot!"

xxx

"Enough, Stefan. I'm sure Peter has heard enough already." Leudt returned his attention to Kristina, who watched the scene unfold before her completely oblivious to what they were speaking about- in German. The soldier Leudt had called Peter Shriver was rather short and of stocky build, with curly brown hair and blue eyes. His companion, who was still scolding him, looked like a corrupted copy of Leudt; the same shade of blonde hair and blue eyes, but his hair was neatly parted to the right. His nose stuck out like a thumb, large and slightly hooked. However, had she only paid attention to Leudt, the detail would have been missed.

"Mademoiselle, are you okay?"

"I- I'm fine," Kristina sharply replied. She shrugged free of Leudt's arms and stood up, somewhat shakily. Her face wrinkled into a nasty frown as she looked at her dress. She noted that her face bore the brunt of the spillage. "Show me to your restroom, if that is alright with you. I must wash this coffee off of my face and collar."

"Ah, yes. Here, let me show you the way." He got up, blushing madly. "Peter, Stefan, please move aside."

Shriver's eyes widened. "Stört es dich, wenn ich diesen Stuhl nehme?"

"Ja, ja! Move aside!" Kristina was surprised; Leudt had responded to what seemed to be an innocent question with such force, unlike his charming demeanor that he had been enchanting her with. _I must be careful around this tysk. Who knows what he is capable of doing._

"My goodness, really, yes I mind if you take my chair," Leudt mumbled as they both brushed right by the two soldiers.

"What did he tell you to upset you this severely?"

"Oh?" Leudt stopped walking, facing her. "Don't mind me. Monsieur Shriver has always behaved strangely around me. I haven't the faintest idea why, but I do apologize on behalf of him. Now then!" He stood up straight at attention. "You said you needed the way to the restroom. It should be on the first door to your left on this hallway."

"Mercy… no. Danke, is it not?"

Leudt arched one of his eyebrows in amusement. "Ja, Mademoiselle. When you are finished, the way out is the door furthest down this hall. I do not expect there to be anyone that you may run into this late at night."

 _This late at night? How long was I unconscious?_

"You… you said that it is late into the night? What time is it?"

"It is a little past 4 in the morning." Leudt grinned sheepishly. "I remained awake and hoped that you would awaken so that we could perhaps talk. Well then, I must get my coffee. I have a long day ahead of me- heavens, I do hope that Stefan took good care of my men!"

"Right, see if I care," she snorted. "Your fellow soldiers better not have done anything to Monsieur Larsen, or I will be out of a job. You never did reply my question about him."

"What can I say, Mademoiselle Guheldi?" he shrugged. "I was busy taking care of you; what my assistant ordered the rest of my men to do is hardly of my fault."

"That is quite _relieving_. I have met a responsible soldier who bothers to check on those in his charge. I bet this Stefan gave you all the great news, hasn't he?"

"Woah there, Mademoiselle, that was-"

"Thank you for showing me the way," she said stiffly. "Adieu."

With a turn of her heels, she began walking away from him.

 _I certainly won't be seeing him tomorrow. Not by my account!_

xxx

Leudt watched as her figure gradually became engulfed in the darkness of the hall. When he heard a door click shut, he let out a sigh of disappointment.

 _She is so mean. But she is also the one who has my attention. Sbe alone makes my heart throb like no one else has!_

Despite her stinging words, he couldn't help but smile faintly. _Ja, she is definitely worth it._

* * *

Many nods to one particular song by Lena!


	6. Ch 5: Lost

**Chapter 5: Lost in...**

"I heard she slept in with that lieutenant yesterday."

"What a whore."

"I wonder who she will be sleeping with next?"

"Shh! Quiet, she is approaching us."

Kristina's face crinkled into a frown as she walked by the older gossiping ladies, who in turn just stopped and followed her figure _. It was a mistake for me to leave Leudt's place so early in the morning. Maybe I should have just stayed with him. Then no one would have seen me leave that building._

It turned out that Leudt's division had taken over a small boarding house on the side of Alesund Kristina was completely unfamiliar with. _So much for wanting to travel to the cities. I can hardly navigate Alesund!_ Too proud to ask anyone for directions in fear of being ridiculed even further by her own people, Kristina wandered aimlessly on the streets, desperately hoping to find a familiar landmark or face that would lead her the way home. Instead, she found herself returning again and again to the boarding house.

And so it remained this way for hours. She cursed at herself for not having made any new friends ever since her best friend Frida moved to Sweden, for not investing more time in discovering Alesund, for her own lack of sense in direction, and most of all for Leudt's action.

 _If it wasn't for him…_

"Look at her walking like a drunken sheep."

 _I would not be here if it wasn't for him…_

"Honestly woman, are you from around here or not?"

 _If Papa were here…_

"Hey whore! Mind if you warm my bed tonight?"

 _Oh shucks, what am I thinking, Papa would be of little help!_

She somehow found herself back in front of the boarding house yet again. Exhausted and out of options, she knocked on the door.

It wasn't him who opened the door. As expected. It was a young soldier, barely out of his teenage years, looking and acting very much like an adult.

"Wer bist du? Was machst du hier?" He leaned down upon her, his grey eyes meeting hers. He licked his lips almost greedily.

Kristina shook her head. "Nein, nein!" all she could muster up with what little German she knew, recoiling away from the soldier's figure.

"Du lügst mich an," he purred. "Was machst du hier? Gib mir eine Antwort…" His arms suddenly seized upon Kristina's body, dragging her inside. Too exhausted from her stubborn actions, all she could manage was an inaudible gasp as she saw the door close, enveloping her in the relative darkness of the hallway illuminated by the distant lamps.

The soldier began walking down the hall, his left arm now tightly grasped around Kristina's right hand. She could feel her circulation to her hand slowly dissipating as she struggled to say something. "Leudt," she choked out. "Leudt."

"I have many things," the soldier suddenly hissed in Norwegian, "many things that I would like to do with you." He turned around and met Kristina's shocked face.

"You… you're Norwegian?" She managed to sputter out. "Why… why? Why would you join them?"

The soldier shrugged. "They offered me money that I cannot refuse. I, a young man from a small fishing village, whose parents were looked down upon by society for being German immigrants in the aftermath of the Great War. All the reasons to join das Vaterland." He grinned mischievously. "Imagine my delight when das Vaterland came for my family not too long ago, and now I get to have the time of my life treating Norwegians the way my family was treated!"

He dove straight in for the kiss, his rough lips ravishing Kristina's face as she tried to push him away.

"Stop… Stop!" She gasped. "I don't want this, stop! Please!"

"Oh no," he ceased kissing and looked at her, his eyes shining like that of a predator. "I've waited far too long for this! You probably don't even remember me, do you Kristina Dahl? Huh?!"

"No, you can't be…" her eyes widened. "Not Benny!"

"Indeed!" He slapped her across the face with his free right hand. "Your brothers bullied me far too much just because I was a German. I wonder what they'll do now knowing that I will be doing quick work of their precious little sister!"

"No, I'm not them…! Please, have mercy! LEUDT!" she screamed, as Benny forcefully tugged her towards a door that lined against the hallway.

"The Leutnant? He won't be around for a very long time," he smirked as he opened the door.

"LEUDT! LEUDT! LEU…" her throat became dry from overexertion, she found herself unable to force out any more words without feeling it burn.

"Now then… let's get right down to it, shall we?"

The door was slammed shut.

XXX

"Be careful, Natan."

"Ja, Mutter."

"Don't forget to carry around that knife I gave you."

"Ja, Papi."

"Natan, get me something good to eat!"

"Don't be silly Reza, Natan can't do that."

Natan Kahler looked at his younger brother adoringly. "I'll do anything for my little Bruder," he grinned. He pinched Reza's nose. "Isn't that right, Reza?"

"Stop that!" Reza pouted, brushing Natan's attempts away. "I'm ten now, not five!"

"Same difference to me."

"Eh-hem." Natan's mother raised her head in order to readjust Natan's tie. "Even if you are confident, I still want you to always be alert and ready to come back."

Natan rolled his eyes. "Ja, Mutter. What else do you want me to know? This isn't my first time going out on the streets after Kristallnacht."

"Then maybe, mein Sohn, you'd remember to take off that armband of yours! Here," his father removed the band. "Now you look more like a German! Not that you weren't one to begin with…" His face became downcast and forlorn. "If only I had not delayed our departure from home, we would have left Germany and be safe in America where we could still identify ourselves as Germans… now we have to settle for this third-class status…"

"Cheer up, Papi. The war will be over before you know it," Natan patted his father on the back encouragingly. "The war will be over before you know it. Besides, living in here isn't so bad." He made a quick glance around the small, cramped-out quarters that his father's good friend Samuel Hahn let them live in- in Freiburg. "I do wish we were back home in Leipzig though. I miss my friends."

"What friends do you have left?" Reza laughed. "They're all either gone or hate you."

 _Knock knock._ The Kahlers froze. _Have the Gestapo found us already?_

"Natan, are you ready? No one is on my street right now."

A huge sigh of relief escaped the room. _It's Herr Hahn!_

"Coming, Herr Hahn."

XXX

Leudt frowned. He had spent all day visiting his superior commander in Brattvåg in order to obtain the latest commands. Nothing new, basically. But this, this was highly unusual. He had expected Kristina to return back to the bar, as she had always done regardless of how his men had treated her. Instead, he found the tavern devoid of her and every seat filled with idle soldiers.

"Wo ist Frau Dahl?" he asked one of his subordinates, who was merrily drinking with his friends.

"Ich kenne nicht," the soldier hiccupped in response, a cheesy grin on his face. "Fragen Sie der Barkeeper, wir kennen nicht."

Leudt shook his head in disbelief. _Larsen? How am I supposed to speak with him?_ The old man had since reawoken from when Leudt attacked him, now fearfully looking at Leudt as Leudt made his way to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes widened slightly as he pointed down to Larsen's tray. Larsen jumped as if he had been expecting a bullet to have come from the arm and let out a sigh of relief upon realizing he was still alive, only to panic as he realized that in his fear and concentration for Leudt he had overfilled the glasses he had been filling. Leudt chuckled as Larsen hung his head down in shame, frantically trying to clean up the mess. Seeing this renewed Leudt's confidence somewhat.

"Kristina."

The bartender looked up, his face showing signs of surprise and hate.

Leudt shrugged his shoulders. "Kristina?" He pointed forcefully towards the ground. _Hopefully this guy understands._

Larsen shook his head.

"Kristina ist nicht hier?"

Another shake of no.

"Danke," he nodded curtly as he turned on the heels of his boots. He could hear Larsen let out a sigh of relief behind him.

 _So she is not here. Did she return to her house?_ Leudt exited the tavern. _But she has been working nonstop every day. There is no way she could have returned home. What if… what if she got lost? What if she is still around my base? What if… It cannot be that… Shit, this is not good!_ He jumped on his motorbike, revving it up and raced to the boardinghouse.

 _Not good, not good. I should have insisted on accompanying her home…_

The sun was just beginning to set by the time he reached the boardinghouse. He quickly shut off the engine and rushed inside the building. Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it and closed his eyes, contemplating his next move. _Do I go after her? Everything she has done up to this point has been one of cold politeness, no even less towards me. Should I pursue her, knowing she will be bothered, no, hate me for being so protective of her? Or do I leave her alone?_ He could still recall every morning leading up to today, always waking up with a bottle nearby, if not in his hand, trying to drown out how unrequited he felt towards Kristina. _Perhaps I should just burn this bridge that leads to nowhere. Clearly nothing but drama will come out of this. Even now, all I hear is her name calling out for me..._

He slammed his head against the wooden door several times, feeling the dulling pain echo in his head. He hoped that the voice calling his name would fade from his mind.

Instead it only got clearer.

Such was the pain of love, he had learned, and such was reality.

A faint shriek burst from down the hallway, forcing Leudt to force his eyes open. _That voice sounds familiar…_

"Kristina?"

No response. Leudt wondered if he had somehow conjured up the image of Kristina needing help. He wanted to just collapse onto his bed, forget about today while still immersed with Kristina's lingering scent. Or perhaps drink himself into unconsciousness back at the tavern. But then, his mind continued to nag at him: what if something were happening right now? It would forever be etched in his consciousness that something horrible had happened just meters away from him and he did nothing to stop it.

Leudt took out his pistol and loaded it. Slowly, carefully, he inched along the hallway. _No sounds out of the ordinary,_ he thought. _Just background noise._ Indeed, the faint hum of the electricity and the dripping water of a leaky faucet did not seem out of the norm.

And then he heard it.

"Leudt!"

He found his armed hand quivering as he dropped the pistol in surprise. _Kristina! That was definitely her this time around!_ Steadying his hand with the other, he picked up the pistol. _She sounds like she is in trouble. I have to go help her!_

With renewed vigor, he got up an followed the sound of her voice. He stopped before a door- _Benny's door? Oh no._

Leudt knocked on the door, then twisted the doorknob. As expected, no response. Also as expected, the door was locked.

"Benny! Öffnen Sie die Tür!"

He could hear the rustling of bedsheets and the soft whimpers of a woman-Kristina no doubt. What seemed like an eternity passed before Leudt heard the door click and swing open. Benny stood in the doorway, his uniform noticeably crumpled and his hair hastily combed.

"Yes, Leutenant Leudt?" he sniffed.

"What are you doing? Why is there the sound of struggle coming from your room?"

"It is nothing. Just a woman I am entertaining. That is our purpose here, is it not?"

"Our orders say otherwise," Leudt scolded.

"Well then Leutenant, clearly you have not read the flyers correctly. It states that any woman of Aryan features is up for grabs. This whore was wandering the streets like a lost sheep, the least I could do was take her in and provide her the means-"

"Shut up," Leudt growled. He raised his pistol at Benny's chest. "You knew very well that woman was who I took care of all night. You know that is not what der Führer wa-"

"I suggest you read the flyer then," Benny smirked. "Here, I've outlined the key points of it for you as well. Saved it just for this occasion." He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his uniform and proffered it to Leudt. Leudt's face turned bright red as he took the paper and read it.

"GET OUT!" he screamed. "Out of your room! Now! Before I shoot you!"

"Easy there, Leutenant. I've done noth-"

 _Bang._

Benny flinched, expecting to have been shot at. Instead, the hallway suddenly became much dimmer.

"Out," Leudt growled.

Benny meekly nodded and left. Leudt entered the room and locked the door behind him, expecting to find Kristina in a vulnerable position on the bed.

Instead, he found her curled up into a tight ball. Her delicate braids had been undone and her clothes seemed torn in some areas, as well as fresh red marks on her arms and hands.

He dropped the pistol in complete devastation.

"Mademoiselle… oh no… did he do this to you?" He was at loss for comforting words.

Kristina's eyes, large and fearful, darted around the room until they met Leudt's and relaxed. "Yes," she wheezed. "Water…"

"Water? You need water?"

"Yes…"

He took out his canteen and offered it to her. "It is not much, for I have been drinking from it all day," he apologized. He watched as Kristina took it and drank it greedily.

"Danke," she said finally, sloppily drying her lips with the edge of her dress. Leudt took back the canteen and capped it, still watching her nervously.

"Should I… leave now?"

"No! Don't!"

Leudt thought his heart might have stopped beating for a moment.

"Stay… stay with me for a bit… won't you? Please…"

Leudt sat down on the bed, shy and unsure. "Are you sure this is what you want? You just went through what I assume was a horrific experience."

Kristina shuffled over and leaned against Leudt's arm. "But I feel safer with you than him," she whispered.

Leudt felt as if he were lost in the heaven.

* * *

Reviews greatly appreciated!

I'm taking Elementary German now in college, so hopefully I'll have to depend less on Google Translate in the future.

Guest: Thank you for your review. Great to know someone appreciates my writing. Erik, or rather Erich, will not be meeting Kristina for quite a while. He will be incorporating many aspects from 1943's Erik in addition to other sources of influence. Stay tuned!


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